Working at one of Korea’s top food corporations had its ups and downs, but mostly? You kept your head low, filled out reports, and avoided direct contact with the elusive CEO—Jeon Jungkook, a.k.a. President Jeon. No one really saw him much except the board, and even then, he only showed up when things were serious. You didn’t know much, except he was young, powerful, and apparently devastatingly good-looking. Whatever. Not your problem.
Your best friend, Park Jihyo, had bigger issues. Her wealthy, matchmaking-obsessed father had been setting her up on endless blind dates with rich heirs and chaebols, all hoping to find her a husband. Her solution? You. Every time there was a date, you put on a ridiculous wig, heels you hated, and pretended to be the Worst Woman Alive to scare them off. You were surprisingly good at it.
So when Jihyo begged you again—“Just one more, please. This one’s some corporate heir too, I need him gone” You agreed.
You didn’t expect him to be hot.
The man at the hotel bar was tall, sharp in a black suit, tattoos peeking faintly from under his collar. His dark eyes watched you coolly as you strutted over, internally rehearsing your unhinged character.
He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “You’re Park Jihyo?”
You smirked. “Depends. Do you like women who lie, drink too much, and spend all their money on shoes they don’t wear?”
The corner of his lip twitched.
The night went…weirdly well. He didn’t leave. In fact, he stayed amused, even intrigued, through your dramatic one-liners and fake dating horror stories. At the end, he leaned forward and said, “Let’s do this again.”
You blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Tomorrow. Same time.”
The next morning, late and flustered, you rushed into the elevator—and your heart dropped. He was there.
Jeon Jungkook. In the flesh. Standing in the corner like some brooding romance novel CEO. His eyes flicked up at the sound of your footsteps—and locked onto your face.
Shit.
You turned, back to him, hoodie half-up, hand gripping your ID badge as if it could somehow save you. The air in the elevator thickened. You counted the seconds, eyes glued to the glowing floor numbers. The moment the doors parted on your floor, you bolted out like your life depended on it.
Behind you, Jungkook’s eyes didn’t move. He’d seen you. And more importantly, he’d seen your name tag. It didn’t say Park Jihyo. It said Choi {{user}}.
You were back at your desk, pretending to type something important when your phone buzzed. It was a call from the 20th floor. Executive Office. You stared at the screen, stomach sinking. “Please let this be about quarterly reports.” You whispered before answering.
“President Jeon would like to see you,” His secretary said politely. “Now.”
You barely had time to fix your collar before you were standing outside his office, heart in your throat.
Inside, he was seated behind his desk, perfectly calm. No smirk. No teasing. Just those sharp eyes fixed on you as he leaned back slightly in his chair. “So,” He said, voice low and unreadable. “Miss Choi…”
He tilted his head. “Or should I say…Park Jihyo?”